


stupid cupid, stop picking on me

by sultrygoblin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Brother Dean, Chuck is a dick, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:14:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23868100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultrygoblin/pseuds/sultrygoblin
Summary: one shot- he and dean had tongued their way through a good chunk of the monster manual at this point. but this might just be love.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Sam Winchester/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	stupid cupid, stop picking on me

**Author's Note:**

> this has been sitting in my writing folder as i just randomly add stuff to it. it finally seems to be at a natural stopping point. i have mixed feelings about it but i’m just getting back into the supernatural fandom, foals legs and all. lightly edited. all mistakes are mine and i’m sorry.

“You, uh, you were pretty pissed,” Sam laughed, watching you pull your legs up, crossing them on the table, “Why do they all treat you like that?”

“Well, there’s a reason Chuck calls us his sweetums,” giving him a grin that was more sarcastic than anything else, “They think we’re these morons just because we’re in charge of getting people together. Which, in case you were wondering and even if you weren’t, is a much harder task than everyone makes it out to be. I don’t get to just get up and go have adventures with dashing hunters. No. Everyone else can, but we make sure this world keeps churning out humanity for whatever war everyone’s waging next. But all they see is flying babies,” finally running out of steam and dropping your chin to your chest, hair hiding your face from view.

“I thought you were pretty badass,” dipping his head to try to catch your eyes, which didn’t work quite so well but you perked you face up, “I didn’t see anyone else offering to climb through a vent,” he likes it when you smile, there’s just something pure about it.

You peek up just a bit more, “Yeah?”

He nodded, “Definitely. And that thing you pulled with the guards? I couldn’t have come up with it and Dean’s always says I’m the nerd.”

“Well, thanks,” shooting your eyes up to the ceiling and then back down, “I should,” untangling your legs, “I should probably go,” your feet landing on the floor firmly, “I didn’t mean to tantrum all over you.”

“Tantrum all over me anytime you want,” it was said with such confidence it took a second longer to realize what he’d said and shook his head, “I just meant, if you ever want to talk, I’m happy to listen.”

You lifted your hand, seeming to hesitate before nodding more to yourself than him and patting his knee, “You too,” standing up and taking you hand with you, he found himself sad at the loss, “In fact,” you dug into your pocket and yanked out what looked like any other old fashion skeleton key, “Unlock any door with this, you know if…” rolling on your feet nervously.

“Yeah, of course,” smiling at the little wave you gave him before disappearing.

He sighed, leaning back in the chair, moving the rusted thing between his fingers, “Were you flirting with Cupid?”

“What?” sitting up straight and shoving the metal in his front pocket, “That? No, I just think it’s terrible the way they treat her.”

“Yeah, me too,” Dean agreed but his tone and face hadn’t let it go, “But I’m not offering to let you ‘tantrum all over me’ anytime she wants.”

“You think she noticed?” earning him an are you kidding look that he already knew was coming, “She’s a cherub, of course, you noticed.”

His brother shook his head, “Nah, I don’t think so. In my experience, the people who make love their business aren’t exactly geniuses when it’s coming their way,” leaning against the door, “It’s cute, man. You’ve got a crush on love.”

“Jerk,” he said, hoping for some semblance of normality.

He shook his head, “No, I think Cupid’s got it.”

“I hate you.”

{}

You hate the way your father is looking at you, like he’s caught you with your hand directly in the cookie jar. There’s no talking your way out of it. He just stares, arms crossed over his chest, with that look. The one that says if he has to bring it up, this conversation isn’t going to go the way you want. The problem is you don’t know which cookie jar you’d been caught with your hand in, you were juggling far too many. And the risk of him bringing it up seemed far smaller than the risk of talking about the wrong thing. You kept your smile innocent, your hands behind your back, and your mind as clear as you could. But he just stares, hoping he’ll unnerve you. It’s starting to work. Your lips beginning to waiver, desperate for anything to fill the silence.

“Sam Winchester, sweetums?” you could’ve screamed with relief but you didn’t, choosing instead to look somewhere between surprised and uncomfortable, “Don’t play dumb.”

“It’s not like that,” wishing it had been any other thing and knowing this was the best-case scenario, “He was just…” pushing your hair back with a sigh.

“Nice?” Chuck supplied, and you nodded, “Of course he was, he doesn’t have to be cruel to get what he wants out of you.”

You crinkled up your nose, “I’m sorry, what?” he had that concerned fatherly look as he stepped towards, for the first time you steps back, “What’re you saying?” all you want is to wipe that look off his face. The one that says you not understanding is exactly the problem, “Is that really what you think?”

It was easy to accept from everyone else. But not from him, your father. He had always reminded you of how important the cherubs were, how they kept his cosmic dreaming moving ever forward, and now with the other hand, he wanted to call you naïve. Stupid. Just like everyone else. Somehow it hurt more, it shouldn’t, but it does. The last place you want to be now is here.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” this step forwarded sterner and you don’t miss it but can’t help taking another step back, “I’m not gonna hurt you, you know that.”

You laughed, a sarcastic sound, “Too late, dad,” shaking your head and scoffing, “He was nice because he liked me. I know that’s a hard notion for you to understand. God forbid anyone not have an agenda right?” it’s a terrible idea, you should just keep your mouth shut. But you remembered how good it felt to tell Sam how you felt and this felt even better, “Don’t I deserve something nice?” he stops, as if the idea has never occurred to him, “I listened, I did my job, I worked my ass off. I never asked you for anything. Not like all the others and when you left I kept doing my job. I have been dutiful, faithful, goddamn pious, but it’s not enough,” shaking your head, fingers stretching, eyes widening, truly open for the first time, “It will never be enough for you,” daring to look him in the eye for the first time, not because he forced you to gaze, but because they fear that once lived in your mind had disappeared with realization, “It’s not Sam. It’s anyone. It’s you.”

“Careful,” pointing harshly at you, lips curling around his teeth, “Being a favorite won’t save you, sweetums.”

“Punishment? That’s how my devotion is to be rewarded,” it’s like the ceiling has shattered, you are seeing everything as it is for the first time, “Do it then,” it’s intoxicating and if this is how you are to meet your end, you’re happy it’s with a clear mind.

The feeling is suddenly sucked from your soul at the sight of his guilt, head hung, “This is how you leave me then,” as if he’d always known it was coming, “I had hoped for just a while longer.”

You wonder if he knows because he made you this way. If one day this was always meant to happen. You don’t know what it is. If it’s death or something like it. All you know is it doesn’t hurt, it’s almost like drifting off to sleep. You smile, wondering what happens next. Is anything next? But blackness steals the thoughts from you. You pray one last time to him, thanking him for whatever this end may be.

{}

He hears the thud before anything registers in his mind. A loud noise on the table in front of him as a body appeared in front of him. Sam’s glad he takes it in before shouting for Dean. It’s you, it’s been weeks, but you’re back. You’re here. And you’re unconscious. Well, was unconscious. A sudden cough threw your entire body upwards like you’d just had a thousand volts run through you. Nothing seems more important than thrusting your hand in front of your face, you flex your fingers a few times, before falling backward. He can’t tell if you’re frustrated, relieved, or just confused. You’re just blinking, taking deep breaths, before suddenly seeming to focus on the world around you.

“Do you ever just walk through a door?” he asked with a laugh, watching you sit up slowly and swing your legs over the edge of the table, “You okay?” suddenly looking concerned as you carefully eased yourself off the table and onto your feet.

“” I don’t know,” you attempt to stand ended up with your legs wobbling then your knees buckling, “He knew something. But…” clinging to his arm as it suddenly wrapped around your waist to keep you steady, “We fought, I was cruel and he,” it’s like the memory of a dream, it keeps flying from your fingertips, “What did he do?”

“We’ll figure it out,” he spoke softly, trying to calm you down as frustration began to ease into your tone, “I’m thinking right now a couch would be good.”

“Very good,” nodding, keeping a white-knuckled grip on his flannel.

It was a slow time, but they’d finally made it, your body falling into the cushions with the exhaustion of a person who’d just run a marathon. But you’re smiling at him, an almost dopey grin he can’t help feeling on his own face. You’ve got a crush on love. It jerks him back to the moment at hand. Now isn’t the time. He mutters something about going to get Dean and Cas before leaving you on your own. By the time they’ve gathered with a game plan you’re dozing on the couch, no one has to say anything, it’s heavy in the room. They all decide its best you hear it from your brother. He sits, he waits, and when you wake up, they talk about.

Your sob echoes in the bunker. Sam can feel his heartbreaking.

{}

The entire first day everyone gives you a wide berth, chancing glances but altogether you seem to be hiding. The second is the same but food has disappeared and he’s happy you are at least eating. On the third, you finally approached someone. You didn’t ask for Cas or try to find Dean. You came straight to him, wringing your hands, looking nervous. A sensation that must be new for you, it’s clear you are trying to power through it. He can’t help smiling at how adorable you are, trying to wrestle with whatever, no doubt incredibly simple, idea was running through your mind.

“I don’t have any clothes,” the words come out rushed, but you smile, they’re both proud of you, “I’m starting to smell.”

“Yeah, of course,” climbing to his feet, trying to seem far more put together than he actually felt, “I’ll get the shower started, you can um-” clearing his throat, “You can pick out a couple of my things, till we can get to a store for you.”

“Thanks,” Your cheeks are bright red, he’s flirting with you, he definitely is.

And now you can feel it, somewhat understand it, more importantly, you can respond, “No problem,” he wonders if that’s how you think about you newfound mortality, “Might take a few days though, it is Dean,” that’s how he wants you to think about it. He’s here. It can’t all be bad.

“I really don’t mind. I’m just lucky to have you,” you swallowed hard, “Guys! You guys,” you’re not as smooth as you think, they both know it.

“It’s just nice to be needed, come on, time for your first human lesson.”

He shows you to the bathroom, pointing at each bottle and naming them followed by what knob does what. It’s a relatively easy concept that he’s sure you already mostly understood, but you listen all the same. By the time they’re at his closet, he feels like they’ve stepped into a very intimate moment without either of them really realizing what it was. He watches you trail your fingers along the fabrics, brows furrowed, before plucking a dark blue and black flannel from the back which would be a dress on you. It would have to be. It wasn’t like they had pants your size wandering around. They certainly didn’t just have women’s underwear, but he offered a pair of shorts to wear underneath. They’d be baggy, but they had a tie around the band so you could tighten them. By the time he left you to it, he needs water. It offers no solace though because his brother is standing there. That smirk on his face.

“What?”

His brother snickered, “Come on, dude,” Sam raised his eyebrows, taking a gulp of water, “Couple days?”

“Shut up!”

“Touchy,” taking a long gulp of his beer with a smile, “She really took one for the team.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, leaning back against the counter, “She really did.”

“Seems like someone should try to make it up to her,” turning his eyes to his brother with one of those all teasing aside looks that so rarely happened.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he doesn’t know if it’s because he believes it, “She’s got a lot happening,” or because he’s scared.

“Yeah, she does,” clapping his brother on the shoulder, “Seems as good a time as any to remind her why it’s worth going through,” he grinned, pulling his arm back, “I’m no cupid expert but getting kicked out because you like a guy? Seems pretty cookie cutter.”

“Fine. I’ll talk to her,” receiving raised eyebrows, “Talk, Dean.”

“Sure,” nodding slowly, “Talk,” making air quotes as he made his way out of the kitchen, “Please ‘talk’ quietly.”

Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He’s more upset about his brother being right than opening his big mouth. He hadn’t known you long, just the last thing they’d worked on and a few other things here and there. But every time it felt like all those years ago, almost like being back at Stanford when he met Jess. Maybe they’d been set up, but that feeling couldn’t be faked. This had gone much the same way, enough to make him wonder if all his love would evolve from the inorganic. He did love you, he had to admit that. It wasn’t a thing he had chosen, you had appeared because they needed you and something about you knocked him right on his ass. Every single time. Even now. When you should seem weak and almost child-like, it feels like you have all the power and don’t even know it. 

Instead, he makes his way back to the spread of research he had been elbow deep in when you’d come padding int the room. But he doesn’t make it. He’s too distracted by everything that’s lead up to the moment he knows is coming next. What must’ve happened before you landed on that table. Chuck had offered you some choice, and you’d chosen, something he’s sure he never expected you to do. Whether it was cruelty or one last act of love for his child that made him drop you in Sam’s lap was still unclear. Just that you had ended up here, and he never wanted you to leave.

Once again you walk in the room, hair dripping and darkening the shoulders of the shirt that is just as large as he expected, his shorts managing to hang past its hem. You look absolutely ridiculous and beautiful.

“Are you a giant?” looking put out by what was no doubt the tightened band of the shorts pulled to almost Urkle levels, “These shorts are absurd!” crossing your arms over your chest which finally made the laugh bubble out of his chest, “What?”

He shook his head, “You’re right,” managing to climb to his feet even as his chuckling made his knees shake, “You look ridiculous.”

“You’re so kind,” shaking your head, hip cocked to the side, “At least I don’t feel gross anymore.”

“Small miracles,” he said, making his way towards you, “I can probably salvage those jeans. The shirt is…” shaking his head slowly.

You smiled, “Thanks, really. You’ve been so great.”

“How could I say no to you?” coming to a stop in front of you, almost eye to eye from where you stood on the small flight of stairs.

You gulped hard, “That’s…” you didn’t know what to say, feeling the words die in your throat and watching his face knit in the same confusion yours must be.

“That’s?”

You shrugged, “I’ve forgotten most words,” you face relaxing, “That I understand.”

“Do you?” he asked, “I don’t.”

“It’s nice to know there are still some things I excel at,” dropping your arms, giving him that look he far too often gave his older brother when trying to communicate the obvious, “You’re supposed to kiss me now.”

“I am?” thrown off for a second by the bluntness of your words, “I am,” pulling himself together quickly.

You’ve been responsible for more kisses than you could remember but only when his lips touched yours did it suddenly occur to you you’ve never been kissed yourself. It’s never been an image that passed through your mind, not till you met Sam. It all feels worth it then. As if everything, since your father snapped you into existence, had been leading up to this one, perfect moment. It fills you with a feeling you couldn’t have felt if you hadn’t been freed, left to your own devices. It curls your toes, your body feels on fire in the best way, all you can taste is coffee and gas station peanut butter cookies. You can’t help leaning into all of it. Arms wrapped around his neck, moving just a few seconds behind him before exploring on your own. You hold your waist in a way that should be painful, but all you want is for him never to stop. How he smiled when you tugged experimentally on his bottom lip.

“Hey!” Dean’s voice, breaking the kiss but not their holds on each other, “Congratulations,” seems so proud of himself as he walked off laughing.

“Dick,” you huffed under your breath.

All he could think to do was kiss you again.

**Author's Note:**

> as always feedback is appreciated. and i am always taking ideas or requests.


End file.
